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A POEM, 



DELIVERED 

AT THE FIFTH ANNIVERSARY OF THE 

FRANKLIN DEBATING SOCIETY, 

♦ ON THE 

BIRTHDAY OF BENJAMIN FKANKLIN, 
JANUARY 17, 1827. 



f— 

BY HENRY MASON. 



As SOME small bird, unfledg'd, unfit for flight, 

Pleas'd with the foliage of a lofty spray, 
Extends his little wings, and with delight 

Essays to perch beneath its canopy : 
The tempting bough waves gently in the breeze, 

And seems to woo him to its calm retreat. 
Whilst high aloft his fellows soar with ease, 

And pour around a melody so sweet, — 
That swift he plies his utmost strength and skill, 

In hopes to join the dulcet-flowing strain ; 
«At length exhausted, tho' against his will, 

Sinks, disappointed, on the lowly plain. 






A POEM. 76 .3. "^^7 

'Tis thus that I, a novice in the art, M a. 

And quite unfit to act the poet's part, 

Attempt to court the Muses' fav'ring smiles, 

And sport awhile in Fancy's varied isles. 

Oh, should I fall, in this aerial flight, 

On you I trust — " report my cause aright." 

Luxuriant Fancy ! spread thy wings, 
Emboss'd with lively pictureings ! 
And should a spark of genius shine 
Upon this humble harp of mine, * 

Oh, gently fan th' aspiring ray, 
And tune the soul to poesy ! 
Let gen'rous Joy, and vig'rous Youth, 
Love, Friendship, Harmony, and Truth, 
With all the train of young desires. 
Assemble round the glowing wires, 
And raise their voices joyfully, 
In honour of our jubilee ! 

Columbia's sons, — a band of mirth, — 
Are met to celebrate the birth 
Of Franklin ! whose unsullied name 
Adorns the fairest page of Fame. 
His breath was drawn in poverty ; 
Dark clouds of dull obscurity 
Hung heavy o'er his rising years, 
Surcharg'd, as if to drown with tears 
The path destin'd for him to tread, 
And burst, a chaos ! o'er his head. 
He view'd, with philosophic eye. 
The threat'ning aspect of the sky : 



A POEM. 

Made preparation, ere too late, 

And bravely stood the storms of fate ! 

On literature's melodious tide 
His little bark was wont to glide, 
With graceful ease and beauty by, 
In elegant simplicity ! 
And at sweet Hope's benign request, 
The sails by fav'ring breezes brac'd, 
With Genius at the helm, it went 
Triumphant o'er the element. 

Oh ! in youth's warm and sunny hour, 
Ere yet the cold, corrosive pow'r 
Of sordid Care has time to dim 
The mind's pure virgin blossoming ; 
Ere yet Deception's demon smile. 
Or Slander's breath, can blast the soil ; 
The morn of life ! the dawning light 
Of beauty, bursting on our sight ; 
When feeling's fire, in vivid rays. 
Sheds dazzling lustre o'er our days ; 
When Friendship's golden lute breathes sweet, 
And Love's harmonious accents greet 
Our willing ears ; when hearts beat high. 
And hope illumes th' inquiring eye. 
And all is pure, and warm, and clear 
As " dew-ey'd Pity's" sacred tear ! 
Oh ! then 'tis sweet — in crested bloom, 
Drooping beneath their rich perfume — 
To pluck, from Nature's verdant field. 
Each mental bud ! Oh ! they will yield, 
In after days, a rich repast, 
When morning's sun is overcast. 



A POEM. 

Thus Franklin, in that joyous time, 
Distill'd from every sunny clime. 
The richest sweets, — the choicest flow'rs, 
That bloom'd in philosophic bow'rs ; 
Cull'd Virtue's venerated seeds 
From deadly Vice's pois'nous weeds, 
And spread them, freely, on his page, 
To mend, instruct, refine the age. 

His genius, with prophetic glance, 
Wander'd along the blue expanse 
Of heav'n ; — with Newton view'd 
The distance, and the magnitude, 
And splendour of each glowing gem 
In Night's cerulean diadem. 
He chain'd the lightnings ! Science saw 
The deed with gratitude and awe ! 
Then, bending from her starry throne, 
Smiling, she claim'd him as her own. 

All Europe wonder'd. Can it be ? 
What ! one born in obscurity, 
Of humble birth and pedigree ; 
A native of a town scarce known, 
To claim th' invention as his own ! 
Impossible ! he stole the thought ; 
We will not be so tamely caught ! 
Peace, babblers, peace ! the strife is vain , 
See, Franklin triumphs in your pain. 
Oh ! know ye not that those bright gems 
Which shine in princely coronals, 
The diamond, em'rald, and the rays 
Emitted from the " sapphire's blaze," 
Swelling the pride of pageantry, 
Are all born of obscurity ? 



A POEM. 

Yes ; deep within the womb of earth 
They were conceiv'd — she gave them birth. 
Then wonder not. The golden keys 
Of all those magic mysteries 
Did Franklin hold ; he op'd the mine 
Where bright ethereal treasures shine, 
The mine of Genius, — richly fraught 
With all the mystic springs of thought, 
And chose* therefrom — O choice refin'd! — 
The jewel of a mighty mind. ^ 

Thus honor'd liv'd the patriot sage. 
And see ! on yon immortal page, 
Where Independence rears her form. 
In proud defiance of the storm ; 
See ! on that hallow'd, sacred roll, 
That free-born offspring of the soul, 
The name of Franklin meets our eye, 
Defender, friend of liberty. 

Oh, Liberty ! inspiring theme, 
Fit subject for a poet's dream ! 
With thee, fair maid ! an infant muse, 
In modest guise — with humble views, 
Would gladly rove, and share thy smile, 
To hapless Erin's lovely isle. 

Pensive, she droops ! her children weep. 
And I, her son, full often steep 
My harp-strings in her briny tears. 
To think that she, my mother, wears 
Oppression's foul and madd'ning chain, 
To grace, forsooth, a tyrant's reign ! 
Time wears apace ; her sons will yet 
Unsheath the sword and bayonet, 



A POEM. 

And shout — the shamrock pois'd on high — 

The long lost name of liberty ! 
Greece breathes ! and waking from her trance, 

Arm'd with battle-axe and lance, 

Contends for her inheritance. 

And hark ! along her classic shore, 

Now crimson dy'd with human gore, 

Liberty's shrill clarion peals, 

Re-echoing o'er her distant hills ! 

Oh, Erin ! catch the stirring strain, 

Awake, and burst thy servile chain ! 

Crush, crush Disunion's hydra form! 

Bare, bare thy proud herculean arm ! 

Look at Columbia ; she is free ; 

Strike, bravely strike, for liberty ! 

Enough — enough ; 'twere vain to dwell — 

Unhappy country ! fare thee well. 
Ye free born sons, Columbia's boast. 

The pride, the bulwark of her coast ! 

Oh ! censure not, when thus I roam, 

In fancy, to my native home. 

There first I drank the breeze of spring, 

And heard the feather'd songsters sing. 

And chas'd the butterfly and bee. 

In childhood's lightsome witchery ! 

'Twas there, upon my native hill, 

Lone-list'ning to a murm'ring rill. 

In evening's calm and mellow'd hour, 

That first I felt the conscious pow'r 

Of Nature's charms ; 'twas there I caught. 

And pencil'd in romantic thought, 

The dawn of hope ; and oh ! 'twas there. 



A POEM. 

Taught by a gentle mother's care, 
I lisp'd to heav'n my evening pray'r ! 
Then censure not ; all — all will grant 
Man's heart is not of adamant. 
Fond mem'ry glows at home's dear name, 
And distance madly fans the flame. 
And now, my muse, let us retrace 
Our steps to Freedom's dwelling-place. 
Starry banners wide are streaming ; 
Mark ! her glowing torch is beaming 
Beacon-bright upon the strand, 
Sublimely, beautifully grand ! 
The martial eagle, bird of might, 
Exulting, revels in its light, 
And even now we breathe the air 
Of her clear, cloudless atmosphere. 
Oh, what a happy change is this ! 
Where is that woful wretchedness 
Which late we view'd ? that bursting heart, 
Forcing the burning tear to start ; 
Wrung by Oppression's iron grasp, 
Whose touch, like the envenom'd Asp, 
In lethargy absorbs the soul. 
Subservient to its dread control. 
The scene is chang'd, — 'tis gone — 'tis fled, 
Oppression hides her horrid head. 

'Tis Freedom's soil whereon we stand. 
Here Plenty spreads her peaceful hand 
Around. Man walks erect and free, 
In all the fearless dignity 
Of soul. Here, Woman too — 
Pure, beauteous as the morning dew ! 



A POEM. 

And sensitive as when it lies 
Upon the vernal lily's dyes, 
A trembling gem from Paradise- 
Mild, modest moves; Man owns her sway, 
And bows to her supremacy. 
Young Genius, unrestrain'd, pursues, 
On airy wings, his lofty muse ; 
O'er mountain height— through sylvan dell 
" Where Fancy's winged visions dwell ;" 
And views the rural cottage scene. 
Calm, peaceful as an angel's dream ; 
And fondly pencils in his lay, 
Contentment, love, fidelity. 
For here are scenes can well excite 
The child of fancy's appetite. 
The Seasons annually produce 
Their blessings for our common use ; 
And all the bounties of the year 
Are found, and are acknowledged here. 
And oh ! there's much essential good 
Arising from the brotherhood 
Of youthful minds, who thus unite 
To catch the pure empyreal light 
Of truth and knowledge, and to rise 
Above the vulgar drudgeries 
Of meaner things ;— who loose the rein 
To thought's swift courser, on the plain 
Where mind's contested prize soars high, 
That gift of Heaven's great Deity. 




Isaac R. Butts & Co. Printers. 



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